


On My Own Two Feet

by nightchandac



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightchandac/pseuds/nightchandac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Jedi Knight, Cir, lost her leg (thanks to the cybernetic armors).  I've got a couple little scenes of her dealing with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmares (version one)

Cir woke, startled from sleep by another nightmare. She draped her arm over her eyes and fought back tears. It was the same thing every night.  
She was a Jedi Knight; she was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to be this image of a warrior, but here she was, falling apart because of a bad dream. Wiping her eyes, she sat up and hung her legs off the side of the bed. The sound of a mechanical whir confused her until she rested her hands on her knees. One was flesh and blood and the other…she was met with cold metal.

It wasn’t a bad dream. This was real. The explosion was real, the pain, the ever-present ache in her thigh and hip was real. She sat on the edge of her bed struggling for breath as she once again reminded herself she was broken. She could never be whole again.

She tried to steady herself, but breathing became harder and the lump in her throat turned to sobs. She was weak. She was not fit to be a Jedi Knight. Suddenly there was a knock on her door. Composing herself, she called “Come in, Kira.”

As the door slid open, a disheveled Kira stood with concern gracing every detail in her face. “Master, are you okay? I…heard you crying.”

Cir patted the empty space next to her and waited until Kira sat to speak. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t be a Jedi Knight…” she said, taking a steadying breath.

Kira offered a half smile. “Cir, I was raised a Sith. We all have our scars, but those are memories. Those are battles we’ve walked away from. I’m not whole either, but I’m learning how to be.” Her soft voice mirrored her soothing Force aura.

Cir shook her head, her blue hair falling in her face. “I can’t even walk right. This isn’t a scar; it’s a missing piece of me…”

Kira placed a hand on her shoulder. “And you’re gonna have to learn how to deal with that…”

Cir shrugged Kira’s hand off. “I think I just want to be alone for a little while. Thanks for checking up on me, though.” She tried to offer a reassuring smile to her Padawan, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  
Kira didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway. “If you insist. Good night, Master.”

As the door closed behind her, Cir sighed. Her eyes stung again but she fought back the tears, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Kira meant well, she knew that, but the reality of their situations was so different they might as well be a Wookiee and a Bith.

She needed warmth right now, real warmth, so she decided she needed Doc. She limped over to her intercom to call him up to her room, but stopped. I need to do this myself. I need to move. Running her hand over her hair to smooth it back, she stood straight and squared her shoulders. Breathing deep, she gathered her strength and began making her way down to Doc’s room. The first few steps were always the hardest. While the artificial limb could make up for the missing space, it was nothing like her own flesh-and-blood leg. It was awkward and her muscles weren’t used to the metal yet. She needed to practice in order to get better, just like training to be a Jedi.

Clumsily, holding onto the wall for dear life, she moved down the small flight of stairs and stopped to catch her breath. She forced herself to smile at her accomplishment. She’d decided on her own to go down stairs and walk around. Doc didn’t tell her that she needed to move around. Kira didn’t tell her she needed more practice. Cir decided for herself that she needed something.

She pressed her hand on the door pad and propped herself on the door jamb, waiting for it to slide open. Doc was snoring and Cir smiled at his peaceful face. I wish I could sleep that soundly, she thought. His chest rose and fell, his face was relaxed. This was what it was like to be whole. You could sleep through someone barging into your room. Simply admiring the peacefulness put her at ease. She forgot about the pain in her thigh, she forgot about the nightmares, she forgot about her leg. Once again tears stung her eyes, but she did not cry out of sadness or frustration this time. She sat on the floor and let herself cry out of relief, barely noticing she’d woken Doc up.

He was sitting up in his bed, trying to make out the shape sitting in the corner of his room. “Cir? Is that you?” Shoving the covers off, he quickly moved to stoop in front of her, lifting her face with a finger under her chin and resting his other hand on her shoulder. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” All sense of peacefulness was gone and worry filled his eyes.

Cir wiped her eyes and moved his hands away from her face. “Stop, I’m—I’m fine. I just…I need you,” she admitted reluctantly. She’d never felt like she needed anyone before; she never felt like she should have to need anyone.

Doc’s face softened and he hung his head, letting out a long huff of breath. “You scared me.” His voice was shaking. Cir was sure he didn’t notice, but she did. She had felt him stiffen; she felt fear fill the room when he woke up. Maybe he wasn’t whole after all. He grabbed her and carried her to the bed, sitting with her on his lap.

With their arms around each other, Cir tried to match his breathing. He was calm again. How did he do that? she wondered, almost out loud.

“Are you really okay?” Doc finally asked, breaking the silence. He brushed the stray strands of hair from her face and looked into her eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep…I can’t sleep anymore. I keep seeing it happen…every time I close my eyes—” she was choking on that lump again. She tried to compose herself by taking deep breaths, but Doc stiffened again. She looked confused. “What is it?”

He looked away from her. “I know what you mean. That’s all.” His Force aura became cold and shielded. Gently, he moved her off his lap and turned away.

“Doc, what do you mean?” She pressed, grabbing his arm.

He shook his head and sat for a moment. When he spoke, his voice quivered. “I’d never felt more fear than when I saw you after the explosion. You looked…I thought I lost you. There was so much blood…we were so far from a med station, I thought that was it—” He paused to wipe his eyes. Cir felt the weight of his fear through the Force and felt her eyes sting again. She never thought of what it must have been like for him to see her like that.

“Doc, I—”

“I love you, you know? I thought my life was over,” he interrupted, stating it with an air of finality.

Cir knew he didn’t like to share his feelings, especially ones like this, but she knew how important it was that she knows what he went through. Her struggle had become his burden and she saw that now. He was telling her this because he watched her come through these impossible odds and saw her struggling every day with how she would go on.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea it was this hard for you.” She felt that apologizing for this was wrong, but she had to say something.

“It’s not your fault. You’re moving forward, right? I should too.” His eyes met hers and for what seemed like hours, they just stared.

“Doc, I need to know something,” Cir started, a small smile gracing the corner of her mouth.

He tilted his head in curiosity, his messy green hair flopping to the side as he did so. She ran her fingers through it, trying to get it to stand up in its usual Mohawk. “What’s that?”

She rested a hand on her metal leg. “Does this make me look like a badass?”

His smile was broad and full and lit up the room. “The baddest of asses.”


	2. Nightmares (version 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another version of Cir dealing with the loss of her leg. Consider it another day in the life of the PTSD-riddled Jedi Knight.  
> *Minor spoilers*

She was twenty years old when it happened. Every night, every damn night, she is haunted by it. Kira and Doc have stopped checking in on her in the middle of the night when they hear her scream or cry. She’s gotten better at staying quiet through the night.

 

A thunderous boom echoed across the landing platform. The ringing in her ears drowned out every other sound, but the pain sprinting across her body made her forget everything else. Her lungs were on fire; her leg felt as though it had been dipped in lava. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. When she opened her eyes, the world was a hot orange blur and she could make out only a few distinct shapes, one of which was heading for her. Over the ringing, she heard her name. She would have sighed in relief if every breath didn’t feel like someone was stabbing her with a branding iron. 

Staying awake was the most difficult thing, but hearing Doc’s voice screaming at her to stay with him was the rope she would use to climb out of unconsciousness. She was filled with fear and pain and confusion, which was only heightened by Doc’s shaking voice. She tried to call on the Force to calm herself and Doc, but as she closed her eyes, the she found herself unable to fight through the fog and was enveloped in blackness.

She bolted upright in her bed, panting, letting the sobs once again take control. It always stopped there, as if her unconsciousness in the memory was tied to the real world. It had been nearly a year and still she couldn’t close her eyes without being blinded by it. Maybe the other Jedi masters can help… When she regained her composure, she would contact the Jedi Council, but for now she would meditate, letting the calm and quiet of the ship seep into her.  
\-----  
“Kira, set course for Tython, please,” she called from the cockpit doorway.

“Uh, right away, Master. Any particular reason we’re going back?”

Cir wanted to smile as she reminisced; thinking back to her days at the Jedi Temple, but the uncertainty that was wrapped around her situation overwhelmed any nostalgia. “I need to meet with the Council about something,” was all she said as she headed down to visit Doc.

As she rounded the corner, she could hear her husband whispering to himself as he shuffled through datapads. She leaned on the door jamb and watched him work for a few minutes. His focus was unmatched when it came to saving lives. He would say he wanted the fame, to be a household name, but she knew him too well to know that was the only reason he did what he did. Sometimes she was sure he was the only thing keeping her sane when she was away from the battlefield.

“Hey, gorgeous, how long you gonna stand there?” Doc asked, offering a half smile though not looking away from his work.

Cir smiled back for an instant. “Just taking in the view,” she replied, moving to wrap her arms around his waist, resting her head against his back. She kissed it before turning him around. “I actually want to talk to you about something.”

He kissed her forehead before moving to sit on his desk. “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, she explained how she thought the Jedi Council could help her with her nightmares, with the constant pain and flashbacks and darkness. “I’m not sure how or if they can even help, but it’s worth a shot, right?”

Doc’s gaze fell to the floor, and his Force aura grew cold. “I thought…I thought you said it was getting better. I thought you said you were okay…after we got married. Why did you lie? I could’ve helped you.”

Cir pulled back. “It scared you. It scares the shit out of you when you hear me scream at night. You want to relive that day as much as I do. You couldn’t help me which is why you stopped checking on me in the middle of the night…” she let her sentence trail off for fear of losing control.

He looked her in the eye and pulled her hands into his. “You stopped screaming. You stopped crying. I thought you were okay… I want you to be okay. We’re supposed to be in this together. That’s how marriage works, right?”

Hot tears fell down Cir’s cheeks, but Doc held her hands tighter when she tried to move away. “Doc…Archie, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shut you out, but you have to understand where I come from. It was drilled into me that there is no emotion. We can’t have attachments. I’m not even remotely close to the robot the Jedi expect, but breaking away from everything I was taught that is hard…”

Doc smiled when she called him Archie. It was rare for her to use it and he knew when she did she needed his attention. He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her small frame. “You are a little bit of a robot, you know,” he whispered, purposely bumping his leg into her cybernetic one. “I get to tell all my friends I married a cyborg. How cool is that, huh?” He was speaking into the top of her head, the heat of his breath bringing Cir an odd sort of comfort.

She sighed and allowed herself to smile. Dwelling on the situation would help no one.

“You’re gonna be okay, beautiful.”

Cir looked up at him, still smiling. “Is that your professional opinion, Doctor Kimble?”

He groaned loudly and the laugh that escaped was hearty and pure. “Oh no, don’t call me that, please,” he begged and kissed her forehead before moving to close the door.


End file.
